


The Dead Risers Doll

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Aftermath, Crying, Enoch is bored and doesn’t know how to express is emotions, Enoch thinks Horace very lovely, Fluff, Frightened Horace, Gentle Enoch, Gentle Sex, M/M, Molestation, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, bottom Horace, he it, he likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Enoch finds himself bored of like in the loop, he wants his good friend Horace to help him.
Relationships: Enoch O'Connor/Horace Somnusson
Kudos: 15





	The Dead Risers Doll

_In the body of a ball jointed doll_ _ You're so fragile you can't move at all _

_But I just want to touch you and I promise I won't break you_

_If you would be my doll just for a day_

_Then I would put you back into, back into your case_

Waves crashed against the cliffs of a small island in Wales, the cries of the seagulls loud against the quiet morning, and in a large home near the seaside, a boy sat behind his desk. Enoch O’Connor. 

His long fingers reached into a jar, and pulling out a small mouse heart.

He stroked the damp, leathery morsel, inserting it into a small clay man. He watched the thing wander around the table with bored, pale blue eyes. It picked up bits of wood and knocked against the table.

The boy sighed, reaching over and plucking off its head. He was bored. Life in the loop was repetitive, he had done everything there was to be done. Even the objects from the present had lost their charm. He sighed again, and trudged upstairs.

“Oh, good morning Enoch” 

He glanced at the the person speaking to him, Horace Somnusson. 

The younger boy walked up to him.

“You ought to do something with your hair, see mine?” He asked, slipping off the hat he was wearing. “It’s sleek”

Enoch did see. It looked perfect, and soft, he reached out to touch it, only to have Horace flinch back

“No no!” He cried “your hands might be dirty”

Enoch looked at his hands. They were cracked and callused, he looked back at Horace. The other boy looked nearly perfect. The way he dressed, and held himself, his soft, porcelain skin. His body. He reminded Enoch of a doll. 

He smiled, and reached out his hand

“I’m sorry, my friend” he murmured

Horace tentatively took it. 

“I-I didn’t take you as one who’d walk with hands linked” Horace blushed

Enoch smiled slightly at his small hand. His skin was so soft. Everything about his was soft. He lead him to the basement stairs.

“Well I was curious as to whether you would help me with an experiment of mine”

Horace giggled nervously “Why of course my friend! As long as it doesn’t entail putting my heart in a ribcage that’s not my own!”

Enoch’s confidence grew at Horace’s anxious laughter.

The air grew colder around the pair and they descended into Enoch’s basement. 

“First, I must check your physical health” Enoch explained, picking Horace up and placing him on the table.

“Say ah” he instructed, holding his lamp up to the boys mouth.

He looked at his slender tongue, and his even, white teeth. 

He lightly squeezed Horace’s thigh, he squeaked, his face turning red as the tomatoes outside. 

“Enoch?” His voice pitched up with fear

Enoch pulled him off the desk and laid him on the cold, concrete floor, Horace squirmed as he ran his hand down his leg, feeling the soft material.

He looked back at Horace, who had welling in his eyes.

“Why’re you doing this Enoch” he whimpered

The fear in the delicate boy’s eyes excited him

“Just relax” he told him, pulling his pants off. He slipped off his little jacked and slowly unbuttoned the dress shirt underneath. Horace’s breathing was heavy.

Enoch undressed himself, he noted with glee, that he was a bit bigger than Horace.

He slid his fingers into his mouth, moving them around until they were sufficiently soaked. He slowly presses his fingers into the small boy’s hole.

“Gah! gh” Horace gasped and screwed his eyes shut.

Enoch watched his face as he pumped him finders in and out. Finally he pressed the head of his member into him

“Horace cried out, and Enoch couldn’t tell if it was in pain or pleasure, but Horace’s feelings didn’t matter in this situation, this wasn’t about him.

Enoch sighed. This was wonderful, he finally had something new to enjoy. Horace was the perfect toy for him.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he grunted between thrusts

He didn’t answer. But for the first time in a very long while he saw emotion in them... perhaps even happiness?

-

Horace struggled putting plates into the cupboard, cursing at his own weakness. A vision of Enoch’s looked down at him, with his hands tangled in his hair suddenly overwhelmed him, he gasped and dropped the plates.

Hugh and a pair of pajama pants rushed in.

Hugh moves him to a chair and checked The younger boy for any injuries

Millard groaned “those were some of the Bird’s favorite plates.”

“I-I can clean it up, I’m sorry”

Millard sighed, “No, it’s fine, we’ll do the rest.”

Horace quietly watched his brothers clean up his mess and start working in the dishes, but he couldn’t get Enoch’s eyes out of his mind. He stole a glance at the basement door and smiled. Maybe being the dead-risers doll wasn’t such a bad way to spend eternity.


End file.
